


A Reasonable Man

by Naoe



Series: Dashing Detective Dean, Omega of Your Dreams Archives [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Bobby Singer, Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Sam Winchester, M/M, Protective Bobby Singer, Unbeta'd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-17 21:55:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18107234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naoe/pseuds/Naoe
Summary: Bobby Singer wants to know why the Winchesters haven’t stopped by his office after returning from out west.Guess he’s gonna have to find out for himself.Please read "The Pinkerton Boys" first; this cannot stand alone.





	A Reasonable Man

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuing stamp from Bobby’s POV about the idjits returning. There is an implication of sex, but since this is Bobby's POV, not sure if you want him talking about it.
> 
> It’s not beta’d. It’s not well-written. But it’s done.
> 
> It cannot stand alone. Please read "The Pinkerton Boys" first.
> 
> THANKS TO Jesus_Of_Suburbia FOR RUSSIAN ASSISTANCE!

Robert “Bobby” Singer considered himself a reasonable man. It wasn’t his fault the world was generally _unreasonable._ He just tried to manage it.

But… _sometimes…_ **_sometimes_ ** ... it was absolutely, 100% Winchester-addled _**unreasonable**_ ** _._ **

Take this, for instance, he inwardly grumbled as he eyed the damned report they had dropped on his desk via carrier. It was suspiciously _thin_. Sam had never written anything under a full inch of paper. This thing was maybe a quarter of an inch, if that!

There were areas of time missing, which wasn’t unusual for other agents, but for _Sam_? He might as well have set up a bonfire claiming he was lying about something.

He loved his foster sons, but God knew he dreaded Sam’s extensively detailed reports. Half an inch of paper for the recovery of a prized poodle, and now _this_. Whatever _this_ was…

Next, there was the small yellow purse with a lock of blonde hair in it. According to the report, they had found Megan Masters dead of influenza and taken the lock for evidence.

Bobby rubbed a hand over his face trying to wipe away his annoyance. Judge Masters was _not_ going to be pleased and Sam’s report was sketchy at best. No name of where they found her, no mention of their journey, and not a word about any real interactions regarding her.

He had to wait, he supposed, for the idjits to come to him and explain this better.

_Much better._

Considering Bobby had sent a runner for them to come explain themselves the very same day as the report had landed on his desk, and considering that the Winchesters still hadn’t deigned to grace his office like quicksilver, the day was pissing Bobby off.

Really, he considered himself a _reasonable_ man, but those two were twisting his tail something fierce!

As it was, Kevin slipped in and out of his office as quietly as possible, dropping off papers carefully and slowly backing out, as if he were confronting a dangerous beast.

By the _third day_ of inaction, Colonel Robert Singer had had enough. He told Kevin he was leaving with a snarl, smashed his beaver-skin bowler hat onto his head, and briskly stode out, cane in hand.

It was unfortunate that the Winchester townhouse was so close, seeing as he hadn’t enough time to brush off his annoyance. He was giving off the stench of anger, if the way the crowds avoided him seemed to indicate anything.

He strode up the townhouse’s steps and rapped sharply on the door.

There was some sort of audible action that Bobby could sense, but it still took more time than Bobby had the patience for the door to open.

Even worse, it was opened by a dark-haired stranger with blue eyes, who just eyed him cautiously.

Now, there was a reason why Colonel Robert Singer had not been promoted in the main office, despite his longevity and efficiency. The reason he was given his own small command in a different building, on the other side of Downtown: he failed to play the sycophant game.

In this instance, it would’ve been polite and politic to stay calm and ask where the Winchesters were at that moment.

But Bobby was made of pure brass and nails, and therefore scared everyone within hearing distance as he Alpha-roared, “ ** _WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!_** ”

Again, Colonel Bobby Singer was a _reasonable_ man...but having his foster sons’ door opened by a complete and _stinky Alpha stranger_ was not in his roundhouse of something _reasonable_.

The fact the dark-haired and blue-eyed man had that base-note rotting-meat Alpha-pong was enough to make Bobby want to poke him with his cane.

So he did poke him in the chest. A few times, since the fellow refused to get out of the way, leaving brown circular indentations in the man’s crisp white shirt.

Neither Alpha paid much attention to the “Oh, shit! BOBBY!!” nor “Oh, my God!! CAS, STOP!!” as they were in the midst of a growling, protective snarl-off at the front door.

It was Dean who ripped the intruding Alpha out of the doorway, while Sam slipped out and held out appeasing palms to the gawping pedestrians and voyeurs. “Nothing to see here! Yes, Mrs. Welch, we’re back for the foreseeable future. No, Mrs. Barr, it was just a misunderstanding, now if you’ll excuse us…”

If he also backed up and pushed Bobby into the house with his giant back, it was no accident.

But Bobby allowed the concerned push as he hadn’t realized he’d made such a spectacle of himself.

Was anyone going to blame him?

As he stepped into the parlor, Bobby observed Dean pushing the Alpha back and talking in low, intense tones. The Alpha saw him come in and blue eyes snapped to observe him, narrowing with consideration.

“What the hell is going on here, boy?” Bobby growled, removing his hat and handing it and his cane to Sam. “You and Sam disappear for nearly two months, come back with a flimsy report, and then ignore my summons. I’m not a ditchable prom date!”

Dean, his hands on the other Alpha’s chest, realized his position and turned to face Bobby, his cheeks and ears red. “W-well, y’know…” he stammered, “F-funny story, that… ha ha ha…”

“Kрасивый,” the foreign Alpha snapped, “Who is this who barges in so rudely?”

Dean swallowed hard under Bobby’s keen eye and murmured, “Uh, Cas… this is our boss and foster father, Colonel Robert Singer.”

Sam returned and added, “We call him ‘Bobby.’”

The other Alpha paled slightly and cleared his throat, putting his right fist to his heart as he bowed formally. “Apologies, Robert Singer. I did not know who you were, only that you were a strange Alpha on my супруг’s doorstep.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t explain anything. Dean?”

Dean’s eyes darted nervously between Sam and Bobby before mumbling, “Cas is my True Mate.”

Expression shuttering close as he digested that tidbit, Bobby growled, “What? You up and mated some random stranger?”

Sam stepped in front of Dean and the strange Alpha and said, “Well, Cas was that foreigner who was seen with Meg, so we ended up spending time with him.”

Nostrils flaring, Bobby could now smell the subtle change in Dean’s scent, an addition of pine and warm earth. He shook his head. “You damn idjit. Did you really go off and mate a suspect?”

Dean wrung his hands a bit before standing tall and replying, “Yes. Because we have a story to tell you.”

Bobby snorted. “Better be a sight better than that thin lie you had dropped on my desk.”

Sam and Dean nodded while the Alpha seemed to have settled behind Dean at military rest.

Bobby inwardly approved of that, showing that this guy trusted Dean but didn’t trust Bobby yet.

Sam and Dean settled in and Lisa brought in a tea tray, giving it to Dean to distribute. He poured out the tea without complaining (for once) and even handed out the cake that Lisa had added on tiny white china plates.

Bobby eyed them as everyone (except the Alpha) got comfortable, the brothers exchanging a full conversation in expressions, until Bobby barked, “Sam! Report!”

Sam snapped to attention, his tea cup rattling in its saucer, and coughed, “Yessir!”

What followed was a long explanation of their travels, from the people they met to finally finding Meg.

Dean took over in some places, looking embarrassed and shy as he shared glances with the Alpha (Cas?).

It took them until after the dinner hour to get Bobby up to speed on Meg and her accusations.

Sam even pulled out a small tome he had written up to give Bobby a chance to review the situation as it occurred, with interviews and witness accounts properly documented by Dean and Sam.

Bobby harrumphed and accepted it, mentally groaning at the sheer size.

But it was what he had initially expected, not the 20 pages of fluff.

Sam said, “We also have the documents Meg had pulled but even with that evidence…”

Bobby flipped to the back and reviewed the names of the accused men with a grimace. Judge Zel Masters, Attorney A. Cooke, Governor Uriel Stand, Mayor Zachariah Adler…it was a slew of power players.

Sam had put together a solid case and Bobby dropped the file onto the table with a sigh. “I don’t know what you boys expect me to do with this, but I’m gonna have to collaborate with the main office.” He grimaced as he tapped the file. “Problem is, the Pinkertons aren’t as invulnerable to corruption as we like to say.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Dean spoke up from his seat, the Alpha still standing next to him.

Bobby pinched the bridge of his nose and huffed, “I might be able to get this to the lads, but that don’t mean they’ll listen to me. They run in some pretty deep pockets nowadays.”

“You don’t think anything will come of it,” Sam surmised.

Bobby glowered. “It’s damning material, but those are some wealthy toffs who have lived off defrauding their constituents. I can’t say they’ll be reeled in, especially with the DA on their side.”

“If they threaten my супруг, I will kill them all,” the Blue-eyed Alpha said flatly.

Bobby believed him. The Alpha had a singularly dangerous, almost predatory air about him.

Grunting, Bobby agreed, then pulled the small fabric bag with the blonde hair in it out of his pocket and dropped it on the table. “And this is..?”

“Megan Masters is dead and that’s our proof.” Dean replied.

“In some small village along the border, in a pauper’s grave,” Sam added.

“Sickness,” the Alpha finished.

Bobby eyed them and fingered the bag. It was a fine-cotton yellow sachet. “I see. Well, no helping for it, if the girl went belly up. I’ll send word to Masters with the tress and see if that cools his heels. Frankly, he’s a maggot of a man, so I’m not surprised his daughter ran away.”

“She was actually an Alpha,” Dean said softly, “She said he’d been forcing her to play Beta.”

“What?” Bobby knew his tone was downright frigid but what sort of monster did that to his own child?

“Demon Woman was very angry with him,” the Alpha (mate??) added.

Sam murmured, “Ahem… again, Cas was the foreigner traveling with her.”

Bobby returned his glowered to Dean. “So you just decided to mate him? What’s your granddaddy gonna say about that? He was hoping you’d marry rich!”

Dean opened his mouth to reply (with sharp words and some swearing if his face was any indication), when the Mate interrupted with, “I am no poor man! I worked since I was a child under the Tsar! My family has money, too!”

Dean and Sam now gaped at him, and the Alpha shrugged. “You did not ask. And I did not know Dean had money… this is not important to me.” He waved his hand dismissively and Bobby could scent the stench of aroused Omega starting to infiltrate the room.

“Dean Winchester! You tame that right now! I’m too old to have your libido stinking up the room!” He gagged. “Get your horny bottom out of here this instant! Take that disreputable Alpha with you!”

Dean colored to the tip of his ears and leaped up out of his seat to flee the parlor. Bobby was pretty sure he turned and gave the Alpha bedroom eyes, because there was a second stench of interested Alpha.

“ _Get yer noisome vapors out of here!_ ” He roared, causing Dean to scamper, the Alpha to growl at him, and Sam to fall back into his seat howling with laughter.

“You should’ve been on the trail with them,” Sam gasped, wiping his eyes as the couple fled, “they were positively revolting!”

Bobby glared at the doorway. “If that’s a sample of it, I’m glad I missed it.”

Sam huffed out more laughter but then added, “Seriously, though, Bobby… don’t tease them. It took weeks of Cas not just _wooing_ Dean, but trying not to set off his bad temper.”

Bobby’s eyebrows nearly struck his hairline thinking about Dean’s terrible temper and general dislike of Alphas. “But… they _are_ mated, right? I don’t need to call up some boys and plug that fellow full of lead?”

Sam snorted. “Dean wouldn’t let you. He was serious about the True Mates thing. He just got more and more temperamental the longer he fought it.” Sam stuck his hands out defensively. “I was not getting between them. Cas is trained in Savate and used to work for the Russian Police.”

“Uh huh.”

Sitting back in his seat, Sam added, “I, uh, also wanted to tell you that I’m retiring from the Pinkertons to focus on my law career.” He scratched his nose and gave Bobby a level 1 sad-puppy look. “I want to mo—“

He was interrupted by a low, vibrating moan that sank through the floor and into the parlor.

Sam turned bright red, his entire face crimson, and although Bobby was a man of the world, that was something he had never wanted to hear from his foster son.

“What the Sam Hill?” He sputtered, hoping vainly that his face was less vivid than Sam’s.

From the heat radiating off it, he suspected not.

Sam—embarrassed—averted his eyes and pointed up. “I need to move out. Living with a newly mated pair has been horrific.”

This was punctuated by a loud thump that had Bobby narrowing his gaze at the ceiling suspiciously and Sam rubbing the back of his neck.

“I—uh—already found a room and I’ll be moving out by the week’s end.” 

The thump came again, almost more insistently.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut. “I can help the agency in an auxiliary position, but I believe Cas is a good fit—“

The thumping got rhythmic, like a bed frame striking a wall.

If possible, Sam's face got redder.

Bobby harrumphed and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Please tell me they aren’t—“

“Oh yeah.” Sam hid his face with his hands. 

Bobby sighed. “Tell that meatheaded pair to meet me in my office _tomorrow_ morning.”

Sam shrugged and avoided his eyes.

The banging got louder and gained some shouting.

Bobby grimaced and beckoned Sam over. “Get our hats and such, son. No one needs to hear tha—“

“YEESS! CAS!!!” 

Bobby flattened his lips in disapproval as Sam fled the room to collect their belongings.

“Damn idjits,” he muttered fondly as he lifted himself up and made to the entranceway, “I’m a damn reasonable man but this is fucking ridiculous.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kрасивый - lovely/beautiful
> 
> Prom date: there were “Promenades” from early to mid-19th C.
> 
> супруг: mate/spouse
> 
>  _might_ have a couple more of these in me...


End file.
